


Sicker than a Dog

by a_very_smol_frog



Series: Magic in the Mundane [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sick Fic, Werewolf!Iwaizumi, witch!oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_smol_frog/pseuds/a_very_smol_frog
Summary: Iwaizumi gets really sick, but thankfully he is married to one of the best potion masters in all of Tokyo.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: Magic in the Mundane [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967257
Comments: 4
Kudos: 139





	Sicker than a Dog

**Author's Note:**

> IwaOi fluff in the magic world <3

Everything felt fuzzy, like Hajime’s brain was swimming through molasses. Every thought was sluggish, every movement was lethargic, and time had seemed to slow down to a snail like pace. 

He alternated from drowning in sweat to shivering under the covers every 30 minutes on the dot. No matter what position he was in he couldn’t get comfortable, even with the multitude of pillows Oikawa had brought into their large bed. 

Werewolves very rarely got sick. Hajime knew it had something to do with how their bodies ran at a higher temperature than most species and the combination of his human and canine attributes, but he had never questioned it, just simply enjoying the fact that he was never plagued with the common cold or seasonal allergies. 

So being confined to bed while running a high fever and feeling like death warmed over was a new experience for him. 

Oikawa had poured over his medical books all morning trying to deduce what illness had infected his husband and finally settled on the Moonfire fever. It was an uncommon illness simply because it could only affect werewolves within 48 hours after the full moon. Apparently the patient would continue to run a fever that would increase in intensity until they were given a potion or their organs cooked due to the extreme heat.

If Hajime had to place a wager he would guess that his organs were at a perfect medium rare right now, bordering on medium well. 

Thankfully, he was married to one of the best potion masters in all of Tokyo, and Oikawa had sequestered himself away in his lab several hours ago with the promise of coming back with some concoction that would cure his husband. Hajime didn’t know what he was brewing down in their basement but at this point Oikawa could come upstairs with a vial full of slug slime and he would gulp it down. 

The werewolf forced himself to sit up in bed. He was going through one of his hot flashes at the moment and his t-shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin. Clumsily he pawed at the hem, trying to yank it up over his head. He was pretty sure he heard the distinct sound of fabric shredding but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

Like a newborn lamb he stood on shaky legs and fumbled his way out of the bedroom to the hallway. The kitchen was his goal destination and a glass of ice cold water would be his prize. He wasn’t entirely sure how long it took him to get there, his fever riddled mind was having some difficulty grasping the complexities of time, but finally he felt the sensation of smooth tile under his feet instead of carpet. 

Not even bothering to reach for a glass he just flipped on the faucet and sunk his head under the cool water, gulping it down in eager mouthfuls. It felt glorious, the chilled water running through his thick shaggy hair and down his neck. He just stood there, his upper body draped over the sink while the cold liquid ran down his heated skin. 

“Iwa-chan what are you doing out of bed?!” Lazily Hajime looked up from his position under the faucet and saw Oikawa standing in the doorframe of the basement. The witch ran over and turned the handle, cutting off Hajime’s heavenly respite from the suffocating heat clawing at his skin. A low growl rumbled in his chest but Oikawa wasn’t fazed. 

“You need to be resting! I put that charmed pad of paper by your bed for a reason! All you need to do is write and it would make its way down to me.” Hajime faintly remembered Oikawa placing a small pad of papers and a pen on the nightstand. Apparently after being written on, the paper would fold itself into a small crane and fly down to Oikawa, this way Hajime wouldn’t have to yell or get up to reach him.

“Hot, wanted to cool off.” The short clipped sentence was all Hajime could muster. It felt like he was being boiled from the inside out. It took all of his coordination and concentration just to remain upright, and even then he was relying heavily on the cool counter underneath his forearms. 

Oikawa moved forward and placed the back of his hand against Hajime’s forehead. The werewolf leaned into the contact. Oikawa had always run colder than most humans, and this was only amplified by the natural differences in their body temperatures. During the winter the witch loved to shove his hands and feet against an unwilling Hajime, forcing the werewolf to heat up the ice cubes he tried to pass off as appendages. Right now Oikawa’s poor circulation was a blessing. 

“Merlin, Hajime your fever has gotten worse.” Oikawa’s tone was laced with something boarding on panic. Hajime opened his mouth to try and calm his husband but nothing came out. Instead the world tilted dangerously underneath him and he lurched forward, the sink catching all of his weight as his knees buckled. He felt a sharp pain against his temple but it was quickly blurred out by the overwhelming burning that ignited under his skin. 

Dark green eyes blinked open to see the ceiling on their kitchen and the frenzied expression on Oikawa’s face. The witch was speaking to him but the sentences lulled in and out of focus, like the steady pull of the ocean waves crashing into shore. 

“...almost done...soon…” Hajime tried to cling to consciousness but the darkness creeped into the edges of his vision and wrapped around him like a warm cocoon. The last thing he saw before he drifted off was fear pooling in the milk chocolate gaze of his husband. 

~~~

When his eyes blinked open Hajime noted that the room was shrouded in darkness. He could have swore the afternoon sun was hanging in the sky just moments ago, but now black shadows blanketed the space and the pale light of the moon crept in through the window. 

The second thing he noticed was that he no longer felt a sweltering heat smoldering under his skin. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, it seemed as if his body was finally able to regulate its temperature once again. Oikawa must have given him a potion at some point. 

He sat up in bed. Wait in bed? When had he gotten back in bed? Hajime wracked his brain, trying to parse together what had happened from the foggy fever riddled fragments of his memories. He remembered being thirsty and making his way to the kitchen. Then Oikawa came in, but everything after that was a blur. There was a fleeting image in his mind, his husband leaning over him, words wobbling with worry. 

The werewolf looked over at the other side of the bed. The witch was currently curled up on top of the covers, facing the space where Hajime had just been laying. All of his features were relaxed, any traces of fear washed away with sleep. 

Hajime reached out and carded a hand through silky chestnut locks, making sure to be careful his claws didn’t knick the human’s delicate skin. Slowly Oikawa was roused from sleep. Hajime enjoyed watching the witch come-to in phases. First with a wrinkled nose as he tried to fight off consciousness and then slowly his eyes opened, still muddied with drowsiness. 

“Iwa?” Oikawa croaked. Hajime just hummed in response, counting down in his head until all of Oikawa’s senses came back to him and he snapped out of his sleepy stupor. Right when he reached zero the witch shot up in bed. 

“How do you feel? Any side effects? How is your head? Let me feel your temperature.” The questions flew out of his mouth in a frenzy, but Hajime was used to the wired and frantic energy of his husband. When the witch was sparked by inspiration or had solved a particularly challenging puzzle his brain moved faster than his mouth, and half the time nothing he said came out as a coherent thought. 

Hajime gently clasped the wrist of the hand that moved to feel his forehead, placing a tender kiss to the inside of Oikawa’s palm. It worked almost exactly like an off switch, and in seconds the witch had relaxed. 

“I feel great. Whatever you gave me must have worked.” The brunnette let out a deep and ragged sigh. Hajime gently tugged him forward and Oikawa went willingly, falling boneless into the broad chest of his husband. The werewolf gently rubbed reassuring circles onto his partner’s back, trying to softly sooth him as his shoulders began to shake. 

“I-it was so bad Hajime. You p-p-passed out and your fever got so high. You couldn’t even s-swallow, I had to u-use a tube.” Oikawa cried into his neck and Hajime could feel hot tears falling onto his skin. His stomach clenched and he gripped his husband tighter. 

“I’m sorry, but you did it. I’m okay now.” The werewolf peppered the crown of the witch’s head in tender kisses, hoping the affection would console his lover. Eventually the shallow sobs turned into pitiful sniffles. 

“I sent out a few letters to healers to try and find out how you got sick. Apparently it's caused by the spores of a mushroom that only fruits during and around a full moon. So Iwa-chan’s stupid mutt brain thought it was okay to eat a random fungus in the forest and got sick. Bad dog.” Hajime chuckled softly against Oikawa’s temple. 

Sometimes he remembered what happened during his transformations, but the memories were often fleeting fragments. More often than not he could parse together the events of the night through smells and flavors rather than things he had seen or thought, but he had no recollection of taste testing any mushrooms during this last full moon. 

“I’m sorry. How about we find a new forest for next month?” There was no way they could check for the fungus before the full moon, Hajime had been known to run 20 miles away in a single night, but they could avoid areas where they had confirmed the mushroom grew. 

“Maybe I should just put you on a leash. Or get you a muzzle because obviously Iwa-chan is too dumb to take care of himself.” Hajime knew Oikawa wasn’t serious, just fragile after the scare of almost losing him. The werewolf pulled his husband into his lap entirely and the two of them sat there for a while, content to snuggle in each other’s presence. 

“Iwa-chan owes me milk bread now. That potion used up the last of my dried luna berries which are very expensive. Now I have to order more and the only farm that grows them in Japan is stupid Ushiwaka’s.” The witch muttered bitterly. 

“I will buy you a month’s supply of milk bread and I will go to Ushijima’s farm myself to pick up the berries. How does that sound?” Hajime knew he didn’t need to. Oikawa wouldn’t have hesitated to do anything to save him, and truly he wanted no repayment for the potion. The fact that Hajime was alive and thriving was plenty, but the werewolf wanted to pay him back in some way for the amount of stress he had put him through. 

The witch hummed happily, hand coming up to rake through the thick hair that ran down Hajime’s neck and the werewolf leaned into the contact greedily. 

“Good boy.” Hajime let the comment slide with a roll of his eyes. Oikawa’s sarcastic remarks were more of a relief than anything, it meant the witch was relaxing and getting back to his usual antics. Plus, Hajime knew the childish comments meant nothing. He had seen his husband unleash his fury onto people who liked to make nasty remarks about Hajime’s race, his words scathing and his tone acidic. 

Their playful banter had been established on a relationship that was decades old, and Hajime knew how little Oikawa cared for the ignorant stereotypes that surrounded his race.

“I love you.” They had been together since they were children, hand in hand running amuck in the forest. Side by side they experienced the world. Hajime and Tooru. Tooru and Hajime. It was a fact: the sky was blue, the earth was round, and they would always be together. The thought that at some point their paths would diverge was so implausible they had never considered it in the first place. 

“I love you too Haj.” Hajime was glad that he didn’t have a tail, the only signs that he was a werewolf were the coarse hair that ran down his neck and arms, pointed ears and teeth, and heightened senses, because if he did it would surely be wagging and then he really would never be able to escape Oikawa’s dog puns. Instead he opted to nuzzle into his husband’s neck which still caused the witch to let out an amused giggle. 

“Oh by the way that potion is going to make you crave peanut butter for 48 hours aaaannndddd you might have the uncontrollable urge to bark at things.” Hajime hung his head and let out a groan that tapered off into a chuckle. 

“I guess it could be worse.” He would take lusting for peanut butter and barking over being dead anyday. 

“Yea the main ingredient of the potion was dog fur. Now Iwa-chan will be forced to revert to into the stupid mutt that he is. Maybe I should get you a collar.” Hajime flicked Oikawa on the forehead, earning himself an indigent yelp and a pout. 

“You deserved that.” The werewolf moved off the bed, securing his arms under Oikawa so the witch had no choice but to accompany his husband to the kitchen where he was then placed onto one of the granite countertops. 

Chocolate eyes watched Hajime with an amused expression as Hajime scoured through the cabinets for the jar of Jif stored in the back. 

Over the next two days the couple learned all of the infinite ways peanut butter could be worked into a meal and knew that the poor clerk at the grocery store probably thought they had gone mad when they came in to purchase 10 jars in one trip. 

Hajime had to sheepishly apologize to their neighbor for barking at her and her yorkie when he had encountered them on the sidewalk in front of their home, and purposefully made sure he was out of the house every morning when the mailman was scheduled to come by. 

They scouted out a new section of forest before the next full moon, and when the sun rose Hajime made his way back to the car haggard and dirty but fever free. 

Oikawa always made sure to keep the ingredients for the potion well in stock and ended up publishing an in depth and thorough book on all the illnesses and ailments that could be contracted by werewolves; it was the first of its kind. Throughout their marriage Hajime had compiled a list of all the reasons why he was grateful to have Oikawa in his life; it was seemingly endless but it never hurt to tack on one more at the end. 

~~~

Now they sat together on the couch, Hajime’s back against the armrest while Oikawa sat between his legs. The witch had a large leather bound tome opened in front of him and was rattling off some theory about how he believed lupine flowers could possibly hold the cure to skylostellis, a degenerative nerve disease contracted by werewolves in their old age. 

The witch had received some negative feedback for his new endeavors. Several other potions masters had approached him and told him that he was wasting his potential, that he should use his genius to make useful potions. There was no money in werewolf related illnesses and no opportunities to earn awards or fame. He should spend his time creating cosmetic based potions, there he could make himself a household name. 

Oikawa gave all of his critics the same response. 

“Nothing is more important than Hajime.” 

The werewolf wrapped his arms a little tighter around his husband’s waist, snuggling closer to the witch’s lithe frame. 

What they had wasn’t traditional by any means but Hajime had no doubt that in every single one of the infinite universes they had somehow made their way to each other. Regardless of race, religion, distance, or time they were inevitable. 

No matter what life hurled at them Hajime wasn’t scared because he wasn't fighting alone. 

Oikawa would always be by his side. It was fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/a_very_smolfrog) for updates on other fics, haikyuu brain rot, and other shenanigans.


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